Yours Forever
by ChaosRocket
Summary: Post-canon. Bakura has died but his soul can't move on. Marik is tormented by memories of the past.


AN: Marik in this fic is the Hikari!

I don't usually write Marik as being this angsty, but I think it works because in the series he does have that big angsty rant where he thinks he deserves to be punished because his dark side killed his father.

Warnings: Self harm, suicide/character death.

* * *

Bakura had been defeated. And what kind of justice was _that_? All he'd ever tried to do was to get justice for his people, in order to free their souls...with a few detours along the way to help and protect Ryou and Marik. Not that those two idiots had deserved it...

Regardless, Zorc had been destroyed, and now Bakura was...well, he didn't know what he was. He hadn't gone to the afterlife, as the Pharaoh had. He hadn't been sent to the underworld to be devoured. He was simply...here. Not in a physical body, but as a spirit.

Once he'd realized his predicament, he had gone instinctively to Ryou. But he couldn't get back inside of him. So he had tried to talk to Ryou, but Ryou couldn't hear him. It was as if Bakura wasn't there.

Except when Ryou was asleep. When Ryou slept, Bakura spoke to him, tried to tell him what had happened. In his sleep, Ryou responded to him, told him of how much he missed him. But then Ryou would wake up sobbing, thinking it had all been a dream. And he would cry for the loss of Bakura.

So Bakura had finally turned from him. He couldn't stand to see Ryou hurting like- no, he was disgusted by the show of emotion. That's what it was.

So he had gone to see how Marik was doing. Just out of curiosity; that was the only reason.

* * *

Marik had far too many scars. The ones on his back were taken unwillingly, forced upon him by his long-dead father.

Then there were the many scars along his neck and chest, given to him when Bakura was loving him. Those he had received willingly, and with hunger.

Yes, most would think that Marik already had too many scars. Marik disagreed. He needed more. He wanted his outside to match his inside.

He had grown bored of extinguishing his cigarettes on his inner arm. Now he dragged a sharp knife along his leg. He felt some satisfaction as he saw the blood seeping out of the fresh wound, a straight line along the top of his upper thigh. Then he cut another line, perpendicular to the first, connecting the two fresh injuries.

He had killed his father. Or was it his dark side that had done it? Yes, it was his dark side. But did it matter? His dark side was only himself. If it weren't for him, his dark side never would have existed.

Another straight red line along his thigh, this one parallel to the first. It was too hard to make a rounded shaped with the knife, so he cut a small V-shape that connected to the third wound.

Maybe his father had deserved to die, anyways. What kind of father would subject his son to the torturous tomb keeper ritual?

One more line cut, following after the miniature V-shape. This one was also parallel to the first wound that he had carved that day.

Had his father hated him? Or had he just been so obsessed with the duty of the tomb keepers that he was unable to properly show his love?

Another line, parallel to the last. Then three perpendicular lines radiating from it; top, middle, and bottom.

Guilt. Should he feel guilt for killing his father? After all his father had done to him? Maybe killing his father was the only good thing his dark side had ever done. Maybe he was better off.

One more line, again parallel to the first.

But Bakura...his dark side had killed Bakura, as well. And that was undoubtedly his fault. He'd asked Bakura to help him. And Bakura hadn't deserved to die. Bakura had only been trying to protect his soul and his siblings.

The final two lines carved, both perpendicular to the previous line. One connecting to the top of the line, the other connecting to the middle.

Bakura had somehow come back to life after being destroyed by his dark side. But Marik hadn't seen him again. He had run away to Egypt, and by the time he'd found out that Bakura had managed to come back from the dead, Bakura had already been killed again. This time for good.

He looked at the carved word on his thigh. The word that represented what he and Bakura had both been. It wasn't enough. He needed more pain.

He hadn't known that Bakura had come back, and he hadn't been there to try to protect him. Now Bakura was gone.

He thought to cut himself more. But when the knife was so sharp, he could barely feel the pain. There was a small stinging sensation, but no more. The flesh parted like butter. So he tossed the knife away, and it clattered onto the floor, smearing his blood across the stones.

Bakura had been his only friend. The only friend he'd ever had. The one who had been willing to risk his own soul and body in an attempt to defeat his dark side, in order to keep Marik's soul and family from being destroyed.

He pulled a serrated knife out of the kitchen drawer. He began sawing at his arm. This was better. This was pain. Not sharp enough to desensitize.

"We're forever," he used to tell Bakura, when the two would kiss and touch and fuck. It was foolish and sentimental.

Bakura would always laugh when he said it. It was a stupid thing to say. There was no such thing as forever.

Especially not where "love" was concerned.

He sawed at his arm relentlessly.

* * *

Bakura's spirit watched helplessly as Marik mutilated himself. Not that he cared. But what had he carved on his leg? Was the word what he thought it was? And could it be related to him? But no...Marik had used him for as long as he'd needed him, and then turned to the supposed "good" side.

Never mind that Marik had considered him his only friend. Never mind that Bakura was the only person Marik had ever wanted to be partners with. Never mind that he was the only one Marik had trusted enough to ask for help. Never mind everything they had shared.

Bakura remembered when the two had first become partners. "Partners"...now there was a word that had multiple meanings. Soon after they'd begun their alliance, Bakura had kissed Marik, roughly and aggressively. Marik had accepted it with eagerness. Otherwise, Bakura wouldn't have pursued it.

Bites and kisses and licks and passion and sex. None of it meant anything. Marik's silly words about "forever" meant nothing. Nothing meant anything. He'd always told Marik that. "Don't be stupid," he would say, when Marik had insisted that they were "forever." Why hadn't that fool believed him?

And why was he trapped here? Why couldn't he move on?

* * *

"I'm sorry, Bakura," Marik said, in a haze of pain, almost unaware that he was speaking. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you. I'm sorry for how I treated Rishid, for letting down Ishizu, and even for my father. I'm sorry for everything I ever did. To my family, to myself, and to you."

He brought the knife to his wrist.

"Stop that!" yelled Bakura, the words out before he even thought about what he was saying. But it didn't matter, anyways. He was only a spirit without a body. Marik couldn't hear him.

* * *

Marik lay on the floor, bleeding out. Eventually, Marik's soul rose from his body.

"Marik..." said Bakura.

And finally, someone could hear him.

"Bakura...is it..."

"It's me...my spirit has been trapped here ever since my defeat."

"Why?" asked Marik.

"I don't know. There's something holding me here."

"And you were here? Watching me?" said Marik in disbelief.

"Well, I just..." started Bakura. He was unable to finish.

"Then you _do_ care," said Marik. He smirked in satisfaction, a little of his old arrogance finally shining through.

Ignoring this, Bakura changed tracks. "Why did you do it, Marik?"

"If you were watching, you should know why."

"Don't you dare blame this on me, Marik. Or yourself. Nothing turned out right for either of us. Nothing ever turns out right for people like us. That's the way of the world."

"But Bakura...we're free now," said Marik.

And then Bakura felt it. He was rising. And suddenly, he knew. He wasn't going to be trapped here indefinitely. He was moving on.

"Marik...I'm...I'm going."

"I know," said Marik. "I'm going too."

"I...I couldn't move on without you, could I?" Bakura suddenly realized.

Marik smiled, his confidence completely back now. "I told you, didn't I?"

"Because...we're forever..." said Bakura in wonder.

Marik nodded in affirmation.

And then their spirits faded.

* * *

Seventeen years later, a boy named Alec was walking down the streets of Las Vegas, his lifelong home. A lot of people complained about the dry heat of the desert environment, but somehow, it had never bothered Alec. It had always felt natural to him.

Alec was in his junior year of high school, and he was thinking about a school project that he was currently working on. So lost in thought was he, that he ran smack into another boy.

"Sorry!" said Alec automatically.

"Whatever," said the other teen in a distracted manner, without looking up from the papers he was carrying.

Alec then looked at the other boy and was suddenly struck by a sense of deja vu.

"Um...I know this is going to sound weird, but do I know you from somewhere?" Alec asked.

"I doubt it," said the other boy absently, still not looking up. "I'm Basil. You're probably confusing me with my twin brother, Ryan. Most people do."

"Nah, I don't know anyone named Ryan," said Alec. "At least, not anyone who looks like you."

Then Basil finally looked up, and an expression of shock spread over his face. "Your eyes..." he said.

"Yeah, I know, not many people have lavender eyes!" said Alec.

"They're...they're pretty," said Basil.

But for Basil, it was more than that. There was something...familiar in those eyes. He was overcome with the irrational feeling that he'd just found something he'd been waiting his entire life for. Maybe even longer than his entire life.

"Thanks," said Alec, blushing a little.

Basil was not normally one to proposition strange guys off the street...but in that moment, he couldn't help himself. There was something about this guy.

"Hey, I hope this isn't too forward, but do you want to go get a cup of coffee or something?" Basil ducked his head shyly as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

"Sure!" said Alec without hesitation. Basil looked visibly relieved.

"Alright...I mean, cool. I know a good place. I'll take you there," said Basil.

And so Basil turned in the direction of the coffee shop, and Alec followed. Alec turned to smile at him, and Basil couldn't help but smile back.

"So...are you and your brother close?" asked Alec conversationally.

Basil brightened even more. "Oh, yeah! Mom and dad say we're as close as any two people can be, even for twins! We've also got an older sister, Amy. How about you? Have you got any siblings?"

"Not yet," said Alec. "But my mom is pregnant with a little girl right now. Can you believe that? Having another kid now, when I'm 16 years old? Maybe it will make my parents stop doting on me so much, though!"

Basil laughed. He was becoming more relaxed by the moment. He was already starting to wonder how he ever could have been nervous around Alec. Everything between them felt completely natural.

Alec reached out and grabbed Basil's hand. Alec wasn't usually so forward, but somehow, he already felt a connection with Basil. It seemed as if he'd known him forever. Basil squeezed his hand, and Alec impulsively leaned in to give Basil a quick kiss. Basil smirked mischievously and leaned in to kiss Alec back. And for both of them, everything felt perfectly right.

Seven years later, Alec and Basil were married. They lived happily ever after.

* * *

AN: You didn't think I'd leave out the "happily ever after," did you? !

Anyways, I was really, really drunk when I wrote this fic. So give me a break? Actually, I've got a couple other fics up here that I wrote when drunk. Fun game: try to guess which ones! No, really, I'm kidding. But please review and let me know what you think!

Oh, and hopefully this is obvious, but Alec is the reincarnation of Marik, Basil is the reincarnation of Bakura, Ryan is the reincarnation of Ryou, Amy is the reincarnation of Amane, and Alec's mother is pregnant with the reincarnation of Ishizu.

And no, I'm not going to tell you what word Marik carved on his leg, because it's actually really silly, and this isn't supposed to be a silly fic. But maybe you can figure it out from the descriptions of the lines he carved.


End file.
